


The Supervillain Next Door

by AdotHann



Series: The Action in the Street [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, And Herc is still a tailor, Bad Fashion, Cast:, Gen, Hercules: Super tailor, Lafayette's asshole cat, Lafayette: my child, M/M, Peggy is a bad friend, TJeffs: Spider Dad, Theodosia: shes not really herre, and peggy, but shes still better than you, cats can also set you up on dates, cats can be assholes, copious use of twitter interludes, fashion - Freeform, idk if y'all have noticed yet but im bad at tagging things, implied cute museum dates, its sort of hit and miss, just mentioned, thigh highs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdotHann/pseuds/AdotHann
Summary: It took Hercules an embarrassingly long time to realise that the person living in the flat above him was literally a supervillain-(feat. my lack of motivation to do anything other than write this series)





	

It took Herc an embarrassingly long time to work out that the guy living in the flat above him was a super villain.

It started like this:

Friedrich von Steuben - Hercules' terrifying landlord, who's personality seemed to be an unholy fusion of 'drill sergeant' and 'drunk college student,' - decided to get the empty apartment above Herc's (and two floors above the shop) renovated. Hercules spent several weeks smiling tightly into the distance as a team of the cheapest, grubbiest builders Steuben could have possibly found tracked grit and plaster dust all over his immaculate studio.

(Theo's team (unofficially dubbed The Children of Liberty, because Herc was the only person who thought that was a brilliant name,) spent the whole time placing bets on what kind of awful tenants would move in upstairs. _Superheroes_ , Herc lamented, _always so optimistic_.

He wasn't sure what he'd done to cause it, but Theo's team had unofficially adopted him. He wasn't really hero material, or mascot material, but somehow he'd managed to worm his way into their close-knit group. Then again, Hercules couldn't imagine a more mismatching group of people; maybe the only criteria you need to get in the door was knowing all of their secret identities.

At any rate, movie nights had gotten a lot more crowded recently. Not that he was complaining.)

Eventually, after about a month and a half in building-work hell, at least 297 cups of builders tea, and four more days spent trying to mop up the plaster dust ( _trying_ being the acting word,) the ordeal was finally over.

Then Lafayette moved in.

Hercules didn't meet them immediately, but the muffled rap music through his ceiling and half hearted greetings as they passed each other by in the mornings were proof of life.

Their first _real_ meeting was rather odd.

It was late and Herc was tried, so the first thing he noticed when he got home was that his kitchen window was open, and the whole fucking apartment was freezing.

The next thing he noticed was the guy standing in the middle of his kitchen, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. (He also noticed that the guy was fucking stunning, like _I kind of want you to model all the clothes I make_ kind of stunning, but he was a little preoccupied with the fact that someone had _broken into his house_.)

"I can explain."

 

* * *

 

“So your feral tomcat, which you shouldn’t even have in this building, got into my apartment.”

“Oui.”

“And he has a habit of destroying furniture and pissing everywhere so you followed him in here.”

“Oui.”

“How did you even get in here?”

“Through the window. Now please help me find my cat before he wrecks your apartment.”Laf said pleadingly.

“Uh, sure.” Herc replied, looking at the window. There was no fire escape and no balcony, and there never had been. Just a sheer drop into the alleyway out back.

"Lulu!" Laf called, wandering into Herc's living room. He suddenly felt very glad that he'd decided to tidy up that morning.

"Your cat’s called Lulu?"

"The Illusionist' is quite the mouthful." Laf replied, checking under the sofa cushions. Hercules decided it was probably best not to ask how they thought a cat could hide under there.

"Superhero fan?"

Laf grinned like they were sharing a private joke. "Something like that."

Eventually they found the cat asleep amongst the shredded remains of one of Herc's jumpers. It had been one of his earlier attempts at knitting, riddled with mistakes and dropped stitches and only really kept for laundry days. He probably still had some of the left-over wool somewhere.

"I'm very sorry about your jumper. I can replace it if you'd like?"

"Nah, it's alright." Herc considered the cat for a moment. "That shade of green really suits him."

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Herc woke up to his doorbell ringing, a fresh basket of pastries on the mat outside, and a hand written apology for ‘the cat-burglar incident.’

He grinned. This looked like it was going to be the start of a rather interesting friendship.

He wasn’t wrong

 

* * *

 

Herc sighed, watching Lafayette collapse onto the _comfy_ chair in his studio.

"Mon ami, do you really expect me to walk up all those stairs in these?" Laf asked, gesturing to the _very_ pretty stilettos they were wearing. Fair enough; they were some pretty intense heels.

“You’re still taking up a lot of my studio space.” Herc observed. Lafayette kicked their feet up onto the arm of the chair.

“Nonsense. You cannot simply exile your _muse_ from your work space, Hercules.”

“Oh? I didn’t relies Theo was here.” Herc said, looking around in mock-surprise. He ducked as a ball of wool was playfully thrown at his head.

Laf had taken to hanging around in Herc’s studio recently, and Herc wasn’t complaining. They were good company, especially when Theo was busy. They’d perch on the edge of his desk, or one of the room’s many chairs and gush over Herc’s work, offering suggestions on which fabrics fitted together best. Herc thought they made a pretty good team.

And beyond that, Lafayette made a point of dragging Hercules and Theo away from their work whenever they could. Hercules found himself becoming increasingly familiar with the city’s more well-hidden gems; Hole-in-the-wall cafes and restaurants, the little bars and galleries where artists with a potential for fame were found, and an entire subculture of textile markets that Herc had simply fallen in love with.    

“Speaking of Theo…?” Laf said. She was usually here by now.

“Weeks case went into its preliminary hearing today.” Herc replied. Laf nodded understandingly. The case had been stressing Theo out for a while now.

Late nights at work, little trips around the city, baskets of warm pastries and, on occasion, another addition to their already crowded movie nights.

(And seriously, if Herc ever had enough free time he was going to enlist all of his friends to model in a fashion show of his own making because seriously, all of them were absurdly attractive.)

 

* * *

 

It was a dark and stormy night when the Marquis first stepped into Mulligan’s Tailors. He stood in front of the shop window, illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning.

It always seems to be a dark and stormy night when the Marquis is doing something. Hercules supposed that that was one of the perks of having weather control powers and being evil; no opportunity for a dramatic entrance was missed.

"Marquis." Herc acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"

Underneath his mask, the villain raised an eyebrow, then turned around and -

"Oh. Okay. I can see how that might be a problem."

Most of the back of his suit was just missing.

"You can fix it?" the Marquis asked and Herc had a distinct feeing that it wasn’t really a question at all.

He looked at the suit. There might be just enough salvageable fabric to make a suit out of, as long as he was making a something for someone the height of Alexander Hamilton. He winced.

"How about I just make you a new one?"

Hercules Mulligan told himself that he was a _professional_ tailor, and that he should act like it.

He told himself that literally all of his friends, whom he also makes costumes for, were unnaturally hot and that really, this shouldn't be any different. The physical closeness that goes with measuring someone for a costume is totally professional. Platonic. Totally. Wahtever.

He told himself that he wasn't blushing that obviously. He could probably pass it off as fatigue or something.

He could probably try telling himself that Alexander regularly got more than 2 hours sleep a night and it would be more convincing.

Really though, the Marquis' shit eating grin should not have been that attractive. It was downright _rude_.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time the Marquis came crashing into his shop, it was the middle of the day and (thank god,) they're the only two people there.

"I need the costume now." The Marquis demanded.

Hercules had to restrain himself from saying 'No kidding.' The usually glamorous super- villain was wearing pinstriped trousers, a ratty t-shirt, flip-flops and a mask. He settled for explaining that he'd only finished the top half of the costume.

The Marquis smiled tightly. "I do not think you understand. A man wearing _dungarees_ and a _dog collar_ is attacking my part of the city."

Herc winced. That did sound pretty dire.

"Doesn't change the fact that I've only finished the top half of the costume." He replied.

To his slight surprise, the Marquis grinned wickedly.

"That's okay. I will improvise."

 

* * *

 

John Lauren's _@SuperWatch_  
#Marquis rocks new outfit in attack on Beekman and Cruger Lawfirm [picture attached]

Maria _@MarieLew  
_ @SuperWatch Looking criminally good in those thigh-highs

Peggy _@AndPeggy_  
@SuperWatch @MarieLew stop

Maria @MarieLew  
@SuperWatch But seriously, how tf does #Marquis manage to destroy the city in those heels?

Peggy @AndPeggy  
@MarieLew @SuperWatch Have you seen Ms Miracle? Try saving the city in heels!

 

* * *

 

It had taken him 5 hours, but the dress he'd been struggling to make was finally finished.

And it was stunning.

The skirt hung in white and gold, knee length clouds that flare out just enough to give it shape. The bodice, in the same colors, was _tastefully_ lacy (which is almost an oxymoron, but Herc had pulled it off.)

It was absolutely stunning. It was probably the best thing he'd made in weeks. And yet something in the back of his mind was telling him he'd fucked it up.

It's not the shape or composure of the dress; he knew every stitch was perfect, every gather and hemline painstakingly measured out. He wouldn't do any less. No, there was something fundamentally wrong with the garment and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He looked back at the specifications he'd jotted down; gathered dress, knee length, blue and black.

Blue and black.

Well _shit_.

Not long after, Laf found him surrounded by empty mugs of coffee, face buried in his fuck-up of a masterpiece. Gently, they pulled the dress away from Herc and held it up to the light.

"Does not look ruined to me."

"It was supposed to be blue and black. I spent 5 hours making the wrong dress."

"So you are saying you made this amazing dress... and now you do not know what to do with it?" Lafayette said, still eyeing the garment.

"Pretty much, yeah." Herc said mournfully. "I may never make anything this beautiful ever again."

Laf held the dress against themself. "Do you think it would fit me?"

Herc sat up and considered the garment. Frankly, the dress hadn't been made for someone quite as tall (and _rip p e d_ ) as Laf, but what was his trademark seam allowance for, if not making adjustments?

"I'll adjust it for you." Herc said, and Laf beamed at him.

There was something very de ja vu about measuring Lafayette. There shouldn't be, Herc knew he'd never actually made them anything before, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of familiarity. He knows these measurements from somewhere.

Eventually he just puts it down to sleep deprivation.

 

* * *

 

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : Pls

 _To FreakyFrancophile_ : No. No way.

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : oh come on

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : I'd pay you really well

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : you know I can afford it

 _To FreakyFrancophile_ : Thomas I literally do not have time to knit tiny sweaters for 500 tarantulas

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : :((

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : you made a sweater for Lafayette's cat

 _To FreakyFrancophile_ : that's different

 _To FreakyFrancophile_ : how do you even know Lafayette anyway

 _From FreakyFrancophile:_ it's better not to question Lafayette.

 _From FreakyFrancophile_ : anyway, about the tarantulas

 

* * *

 

Herc wakes up to a basket of fresh pastries and the realization that his neighbor and friend is probably the Marquis.

They have exactly the same measurements. And body type. And accent. And eye color. And he is paying way too much attention but wow, now that he comes to think about it there are a hell of a lot of similarities here and he doesn't need to be Athena to know that this is far too weird to be coincidence.

He also doesn't need to be Athena to realize that he is paying way too much attention to both Lafayette and the Marquis for this to just be platonic, or that any semblance of neutrality he had had just gone out the window.

Well shit.

 

* * *

 

 _To PegLeg_ : I think my crush might be The Marquis??

 _From PegLeg_ : don't crush on him?

 _To PegLeg_ : You're fcking useless, you know that right

 _From PegLeg_ : ;)

 _To PegLeg_ : next time you need a new costume I'll make it out of hipster-galaxy-lycra ;)

 _From PegLeg_ : You wouldn't dare ;)

 

* * *

 

His next conversation with Laf only complicates the situation even more.

"Theodosia was telling me about this fashion show that she was invited to."

Hercules smiles pleasantly as he realized that, out of costume, Ms Miracle and the Marquis were the best of friends. And it was probably his fault.

Well damn.

"Hercules?" Laf said, looking rather concerned.

Herc maintained that what happened next was no fault of his own; a combination of the stress, the heat, the sleep deprivation and the sheer weirdness of the situation.

"You're the Marquis." He blurted out.

"You didn't know?" Laf replied, sounding mildly surprised.

Herc shot them an incredulous look. "How was I supposed to know?"

"I was not particularly subtle." And to be honest, they're not wrong. For god’s sake, the first time they actually talked was just after Laf parkoured their way into Herc's flat. Was parkour one of the Marquis’ powers? Herc had no idea.

For a moment Lafayette - the most confident and stunning person Herc had ever met, the actual Super Villain - looked very small and very vulnerable. "Is this a problem?"

Herc felt something twist in his gut because, he realized, it wasn't a problem at all. Laf was still the guy upstairs with the trashy rom-com collection, the person who dragged him away from his studio so they could visit art galleries and fashion shows whenever he was getting cabin fever, the guy who's eyes lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree at the very idea of being given Herc's reject clothes. The person who Herc had been hopelessly crushing on for weeks, without even noticing.

"No," He said, a smile playing at his lips, "I guess not."

Lafayette grinned.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again. I know this one isn't all that great but I have been struggling to write this for weeks and tbh I just want to get rid of it.
> 
> Oh! Funny story, the other day I was reading this fic and I was like 'hey this feels awfully familiar, have I read this one before?'  
> Turns out it was like the 3rd or 4th fic from this series and i'd totally forgotten I wrote it. Fml whats wrong with me.
> 
> Anyway, thoughts? Comments? Any kind of response you can, they keep me motivated and how the heck am I gonna get better at writing without constructive criticism?? :)


End file.
